


your precious heart

by neroh



Series: like blood in my veins [8]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Break Up, Depression, Fix-It, Getting Back Together, Ginger Ale/Merlin - Freeform, Injury Recovery, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kingsman Spoilers, M/M, Major Character Injury, Permanent Injury, Pugs, Screw you Matt Vaughn, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Cameo, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neroh/pseuds/neroh
Summary: No one tells you waking up is the easy part.





	your precious heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Bre for the beta as well as Leah, Tresa, Ronald, Mo, and Allison. xoxo
> 
> This takes place during and after [us, unyielding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242871). Lamorak (aka Gregory) resembles Joel Kinnaman because I was binge-watching _Altered Carbon_ while writing some of this.

No one tells you waking up is the easy part.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy wakes to the sound of two people speaking in hushed tones and medical equipment humming in the background.

Life doesn’t even afford him the mercy of not remembering where he is, even if it’s for a few moments because as soon as his eyes flutter open, he knows—he’s in Merlin’s hospital room. Then the smell of antiseptic and ill people hit his nostrils, bringing a tide of nausea with them. Eggsy swallows the sudden onset of salvia and silently hopes he doesn’t vom _again_.

Thinking about it pulls the memory of charred flesh, a body ground up into meat, blood—so much fucking blood, and Merlin’s tenor before that horrible explosion.

He closes his eyes and swallows back a sob. All he can think about is those minutes he thought Merlin was _dead_ ; that the love of his life was dead and Eggsy was, unfairly, still alive. He channeled his grief into every member of the Golden Circle he and Harry encountered. Every punch, every bullet, every scream was their punishment for taking Merlin from him.

If Harry hadn’t been there once the carnage was over, Eggsy reckons he would have certainly collapsed or gone into shock. But shock came after as they were trudging back to the jet and heard one of the Statesman agents yell about getting a medic. For a moment Eggsy thought someone had gotten hit by a stray bullet, which was entirely possible, until he came across the agent working feverishly on an injured person. He watched them rip their tie from their neck and loop it around the bloody and burned mess of what was left of the man’s leg. The muscle, bone, and tissue capture Eggsy’s attention, drowning out everything else as he stares, only idly aware of other people rushing to the man’s aid.

He thinks he heard Harry’s voice shouting his name when Eggsy realized that this isn’t just some man, but Merlin. Merlin, who against all of the odds, was fucking alive and his leg— _his fucking leg_ …

Eggsy turned, hunching over just as vomit pushed its way out of his mouth and onto the jungle floor. He heaved again, expelling more of the martini Harry made him and whatever else was in his stomach before collapsing to his knees, dazed. Someone must have helped him to the jet—Harry, probably, because Eggsy doubts he’d let anyone else handle him given the state he was in—and ushered him to the back so the medical team had a wide berth to work.

 _To keep Merlin alive,_ he thought before dissolving into silent tears.

They dried up when the jet landed in Phnom Penh where Merlin was rushed to the nearest Kingsman-operated hospital to be operated on. With the damage being so extensive, the surgeon removed everything below Merlin’s knee because, honestly, there was no way for them to save it. The rest of the lucky bastard was first and second-degree burns, bruising so deep it didn’t even show up until the next day, lacerations, a few cracked ribs, and a concussion. Unsurprisingly, the amputation was the most critical injury and required Merlin to remain in a medically induced coma.

Which brings Eggsy back to the now as he tries not to cry again because he thinks that’s all he’s been doing. It’s all he can do, having been so close to losing Merlin—having thought he lost him—has thrown him into a tailspin and there are times he can’t breathe. Eggsy pulls himself upright and stretches, moving his body to recover from the slouched position he slept in, before he reaches for Merlin’s limp hand.

It’s warmer than it was the day before and the one before that; less swollen and abraded, but not reactive to his touch. Eggsy brings it to his mouth where he kisses each knuckle and fingertip, murmuring quietly into Merlin’s skin even though he’s not certain he hears him. He hates seeing Merlin like this, hates seeing the tube down his throat and the ones running through his body; Eggsy hates all of it.

“You’re going to make it, babe,” Eggsy whispers as fresh tears squeeze out the corners of his eyes. “You’re going to make it. I know you will.”

But he really doesn’t. It’s still very early in Merlin’s recovery and anything could go wrong. He could develop a clot, an infection, tissue necrosis—a list of terrible things that could compound an already terrible situation. As much as Eggsy tries not to think about it, he does. He doesn’t want to lose Merlin, not after thinking he already lost him—not after this entire mess—and more than anything, he wants his boyfriend to pull through. Eggsy wants to bring him home and help Merlin recover, help him rebuild after such a life-changing event.

Because they’re going to get married one day—they’ve already talked about it—and grow old together.

Eggsy swallows again, tasting the salty bitterness of snot in his throat while his eyes sting with more tears. Blinking, he breathes even though it hurts something awful. The pain lodges itself in his chest, creating a sharp ache before it escapes with his exhale and disappears into the ether. Eggsy reaches to touch Merlin’s cheek, running his fingers over his boyfriend’s dark stubble.

 _Come back,_ he thinks, mournfully. _Come back. Please come back._

 

* * *

 

The next time Eggsy wakes, it’s to the news that he, Harry, and Merlin aren’t the only Kingsman agents left standing.

Roxy, Percival, Bors, and Lamorak report in to the administrative staff since official channels have been destroyed and they don’t know who’s left alive. When Eggsy hears the news, he feels the color draining from his face and faints because, well, it’s fucking shocking. Yeah, he comes to a minute later to find that Trevor—well, Agent Tequila—has caught him before Eggsy could crack his skull open on the linoleum floor and Harry’s _absolutely bricking_ himself, but what do they expect? An entire week of thinking his friends were dead on top of what’s happened to Merlin—it takes a lot out of a bloke!

He flies back to London on a medical jet a week later, where he holds Merlin’s hand for the entire flight and only lets go when the medics prepare to bring him down to the ambulance. Tomorrow, Dr. Hanover will wake Merlin and it’ll be one less tube in his body. Merlin will discover what’s happened to him and Eggsy will do everything in his power to be there for his boyfriend during his recovery.

All of those thoughts vanish as soon as Eggsy sets foot on the ramp and notices Roxy and Percival waiting for him at the bottom. He freezes, staring at them as if they’ll disappear and the news will have only been a dream. Both of them look a bit worse for wear, but then again, they all do. Eggsy has no idea who moves first—him or Roxy—but the next thing he realizes is her hair under his nose as he throws his arms around her. He tugs her close, holding Roxy there as he sobs into her ponytail and she into his shoulder. Percival comes over to them and wraps his arms around them both; Eggsy feels his hiccups and that alone should freak him out, but Eggsy doesn’t give a shit.

His best mate’s alive and, in such a time of turmoil, it’s the greatest gift Eggsy could ask for.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy’s confused when he opens his eyes until he remembers that he’s back in London and Nigel has been keeping watch over Merlin.

It’s been a day since their late night arrival and half of one since he phoned his boyfriend’s older brother to tell him what happened. Six hours since Merlin’s parents and sister left the hospital room with tears in their eyes and, fuck, did he hate seeing them like that. Eggsy’s come to think of Merlin’s family as his own and the idea of them being in pain makes him ill.

On the other hand, it was less awkward when he began hysterically sobbing as soon as Lorna appeared in the doorway with her mother, Una, and went easily into their arms where he cried until his head hurt. He didn’t give a shit when Nigel and their father, Alastair, walked in or that other people saw him at his most vulnerable; they all love Merlin and are worried sick.

Dr. Hanover came by to check on his patient as well as explain the full extent of Merlin’s injuries to his family. It’s something Eggsy’s heard before, though it didn’t make it any easier. He listened while he held onto his boyfriend’s hand, rubbing his thumb over his fingers as Xavier spoke and thought how fucking unbearable this all is. The ventilator and its endo-whatever-the-fuck-it-is tube has been removed, at least, and his family doesn’t have to suffer even more by seeing it.

At some point, Una eased Eggsy down on the pull-out couch and laid a blanket over him, which she fussed with until she was satisfied. He felt her fingers in his hair, brushing it off his forehead as his eyelids grew heavy and he stumbled into sleep. In truth, Eggsy hasn’t gotten much of it because every time he closes his eyes, a vivid replay of Merlin being engulfed by smoke and flame is there to haunt him. He’s woken up with a scream on his tongue more times than he cares to remember and has at least scared the absolute shit out of Harry or some unsuspecting nurse on more than one occasion. So yeah, he’s basically running on fumes and rubbish hospital coffee; it ain’t optimal, but Eggsy makes do.

“You’re awake,” Nigel says. He must have heard the change in Eggsy’s breathing or whatever the hell SIS teaches their recruits.

Eggsy palms his face, wiping away the crust from his eyes and cheeks before yawning. “Didn’t mean to be out that long,” he replies upon realizing how late it is. He kicks the blanket off and swings his legs over the pull-out couch when he hears Nigel.

“Eggsy,” the other man sighs, sounding so much like Merlin that it’s uncanny. When Eggsy glances at him, Nigel’s brows are furrowed in concern in that fatherly sort of way he remembers his dad doing when he was young. “Don’t run yourself ragged. Hamish would have our hides if something happened to you.”

He sets his jaw, gnashing his teeth together so hard that they ache. “I’m not the one you should be worried about,” he says with a bit more bite than he means to.

Nigel presses his lips together and doesn’t respond immediately. For a man who has such an open, friendly face, when he’s deep in thought he’s downright scary. “Aye, but we are,” he says after a while. “I have no idea how you must be feeling right now.” Nigel pauses and swallows. “But if you want to help him, get enough rest and for fuck’s sake, lad, eat something! You’re looking like skin and bone.”

Laughter bubbles up in Eggsy’s throat and he realizes it’s the first time since Merlin’s injury that it’s happened. It comes out of his mouth and soon, he can’t stop. Eggsy knows he looks like shit warmed over because he feels like it, but something about Nigel’s tone and thick brogue cracks through his sadness. He completely expects the look on Nigel’s face, all bug-eyed and like Eggsy’s grown two heads, and it just makes him all the more chuffed.

“Oh bloody hell,” Nigel grouses as he palms his face. “He’s lost his mind! Hamish is going to kill me.”

Tears leak out the corners of his eyes and fall down his cheeks as Eggsy doubles over. He wraps his arms around his stomach and laughs. Laughs until he’s red-faced and wheezing and Nigel is grumbling into his hands about all the ways Merlin will mop the floor with him.

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” Nigel tells him.

Eggsy snorts. “I know it ain’t,” he giggles because he can’t help it.

“It’s bad enough that this,” Nigel gestures to Merlin, who remains unaffected by the commotion, “happened, but then you have Harry being alive! Between the two of them—well, three of you, really—I might end up going mad!”

He wipes his face with his sleeve. “He’ll be alright,” Eggsy says as he glances at Merlin.

“He’s my little brother,” Nigel says, sadly. He comes to sit next to Eggsy on the couch. “It’s my job to protect him and Lorna. I’m sure you feel the same way about Daisy.”

“Yeah, I do,” Eggsy replies. “I’d do anything for her. And Merlin.”

Nigel reaches over and pats his knee. “I know you would,” he assures. “Just don’t neglect yourself, Eggsy. Hamish wouldn’t want it.”

“Seein’ him like this…” Eggsy begins to say before the words escape him. It’s his worst nightmare come to life, the most horrible thing he’s ever had to deal with, the one thing that could break his heart if Merlin doesn’t survive.

“I know, lad,” Nigel says, softly. He wraps an arm around Eggsy’s shoulders. “Believe me, I know.”

He deflates as a sigh passes through his lips. “He’ll be okay, right?”

It’s a loaded question if there ever was one. Merlin, while improving, is still at a critical point in his recovery and _anything_ could go wrong; there are still a thousand things that could. And it ain’t even the half of it—there will be telling him about the amputation, which Eggsy suspects won’t go over well. Merlin will be devastated, period; end of story.

So yeah, Nigel’s right. He needs to take care of himself; eat properly, get enough rest, all of that shit he usually does on autopilot. The things he does with Merlin and JB in their flat in Chelsea; the same things Eggsy took for granted until now. Things he’ll appreciate even more when Merlin wakes—and he fucking will if Eggsy has any say about it.

“He’s made it this far,” Nigel replies. He’s staring at Merlin with this haunted tinge to his eyes.

 _And he has even further to go,_ Eggsy thinks but doesn’t say even though it’s what they’re both thinking.

 

* * *

 

He’s not there when Merlin wakes and finds most of his leg missing.

Eggsy reckons that’s the beginning of the end, now that he’s had time to process what’s happened. He had only gone downstairs to the hospital cafeteria to grab a bite to eat and came back to find Merlin shell-shocked as he stared at his leg. If he thought closing his eyes and seeing Merlin being blown up was shit, it wasn’t as bad as hearing his boyfriend’s screaming until the doctors sedated him.

It took the better part of two hours for Eggsy to stop shaking. He hid in the lavatory attached to the hospital room, barricading himself against the door with his knees pressed to his chest. For all he tried, Eggsy couldn’t will his hands to stop trembling or any part of him, really. He could hardly stand without feeling like he might fall over or open his mouth without sobbing.

They begin to have problems.

He tries so hard, so _fucking_ hard to save a relationship that he knows is failing. Eggsy tries to pretend he doesn’t notice Merlin flinching away from his touch or pretending to be asleep when he comes by to visit. He tries to not be gutted and latches onto the dwindling remnants because once Merlin comes home from the hospital, things will get better because they won’t implode after all they’ve been through. Eggsy digs his heels in because he refuses to lose Merlin and keeps trying because he loves Merlin beyond all reason.

He tries and tries and tries some more; trying not to give into the fights Merlin begins picking or how he seems to gravitate towards Agent Whiskey, nee Ginger Ale—Vivian, really—and confides in her rather than him. Eggsy pretends it doesn’t hurt when it does, it really _fucking_ does, and he wants to shake Merlin by the shoulders. He wants to scream _I’m the one you should be leaning on_ or _please don’t do this to me_ and _I love you, I love you so much_ and _I know you love me as well_ —

And _don’t let them ruin us_.

They have a row the night before Eggsy leaves for Kentucky because Merlin’s in a mood and Eggsy has had enough of watching his boyfriend falling for someone else, even if Merlin doesn’t realize it. It stings something fierce to hear Merlin shout his name as Eggsy grabs his coat to leave and snarl, “You don’t get to fucking walk out of here! Now right now! Not after what I did!”

Eggsy whirls around and stares at his boyfriend like he’s been slapped across the face until his anger sinks its teeth into him. “Is that how it’s gonna be then?” he asks, his voice rising by the second. “I saved your life, do the laundry! I saved your life, clean the flat! I saved your life, _you’re forever in my fuckin’ debt_!”

“You have no idea!” Merlin bellows as both hands into tight fists. They hurt just by looking at them. “You have no idea what I’ve been through!” he accuses. “While you’re out and about, I’ve been confined to this _fucking_ bed like they figure out what to do with me! I can barely look at my own family, let alone you or Harry or whoever else comes into see me!”

Eggsy gnashes his teeth together because now they’re having it now. “You certainly have no problem looking at Vivian.” Because Merlin sure as fuck doesn’t.

“Oh fuck you!”

“It’s true, innit?” Eggsy pulls on his jacket, shoving his arm through it so hard that it’s a bloody miracle it doesn’t rip. “The rest of us can fuck off, but as soon as she comes in here…” He stops himself and shakes his head. Eggsy knows they shouldn’t continue fighting because it will only get worse; both he and Merlin are hot-headed arseholes when they want to be and it’s an explosive mixture. “You know what? Forget it. I ain’t havin’ this argument with you, bruv. You’re tired, I’m tired and I’m leavin’ before this gets out of hand, yeah?”

“I’d say it’s already gotten out of hand,” Merlin sarcastically replies.

The words hurt more than Eggsy will admit and immediately bring stinging tears to his eyes. He steels himself because he ain’t gonna cry in front of Merlin; not right now. He swallows them down and reaches for the doorknob, then leaves without sparing Merlin another glance.

Eggsy makes it as far as the men's lavatory and into the very last stall before he starts sobbing. He buries his face into his knees and cries until his head hurts and he doesn’t think he has any tears left. When he swallows, his throat protests; it’s so fucking sore that it’s enough to distract him from a pair of nearly-pristine oxfords standing outside.

“Eggsy?” Harry asks, gently knocking on the door. A moment passes before Harry poses another question, “Do you mind if I come in?”

His eyes shift to the door between, realizing that it’s unlocked. Fucking Harry being polite even in times like this because he’s a posh wanker with manners. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, bruv.”

The door creaks open, spilling fluorescent lighting into the darkened stall. Harry’s shoes click on the tiled-linoleum floor as he comes closer and leans against the wall. Eggsy hears rustling, then Harry’s voice saying, “Here.”

He glances up to find a handkerchief dangling in front of him, all perfect and pristine with an embroidered K in the right corner. Sniffling, Eggsy takes it and cleans himself up. “Thanks,” he says after he’s blown snot into the fabric. Eggsy thinks of Ector, who would be downright _appalled_ at the prospect, then remembers Ector’s dead; the realization fills his chest with cold dread.

“You’re quite welcome,” Harry replies. “I am curious as to why you’re in here rather than Merlin’s room, especially since you’re heading to Kentucky tomorrow evening.” His remaining eye observes Eggsy closing before commenting, “I thought you’d want to spend as much time with him as possible.”

Eggsy shrugs, but says nothing; Merlin and Harry have been best mates for longer than Eggsy’s been alive and he ain’t one to gas anyone. Harry makes a soft, concerned sound. “Is Hamish being a cunt again?”

His head has never whipped so fast in his entire life. Eggsy stares at Harry, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in complete surprise. “Is that how you talk ‘bout your best mate, bruv?”

“Well, yes. When the occasion calls for it,” Harry answers. He tilts his head. “And judging by your reaction, I believe it most certainly does.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry.”

Harry chuckles sadly. “My dear boy, I’d say it’s too late for that. Perhaps we could discuss this over a cup of tea or, if you wish, something stronger?”

Eggsy opens his mouth to protest, to say that he doesn’t need to be coddled like a child or that he’s perfectly able to handle himself, fuck you very much, when he feels tears pricking his eyes. Sniffling and swallowing, he nods. “A cuppa doesn’t sound half bad.”

They end up back at Harry’s house, in Harry’s kitchen, while Harry fixes them tea and scones and Pickle chews on a rawhide in his dog bed. Eggsy sits at the table, nervously picking at his jumper and entirely too focused on the clusterfuck inside of his head. He barely hears the kettle going off or Pickle’s tiny bark and Harry’s patient assurances to the puppy trying to guard his master.

“I didn’t recall if you liked butter or jam on your scone,” Harry says as he sets a plate and matching teacup down in front of him.

Eggsy peers down at his tea and smiles at the milk mixing with it. “You remembered this, though.”

“Indeed I did,” Harry replies with a smile of his own. He takes a seat next to Eggsy. “And honey, correct?”

“Like my mum used to make me as a kid,” Eggsy tells him. He blows on the steaming tea and watches his reflection ripple. “Innit funny how that works?”

Harry hums in agreement. “Many of our habits are picked up during childhood,” he says. “Including Hamish being irrational and cruel.” A knowing look shines in his eye when Eggsy glances at him.

The words, _kind of like you, you mean,_ slip out before Eggsy can stop them, reverberating through the atmosphere like a whip cracking or a slap across the face. He looks back down at his tea and thinks about the last time he was here—the last time he saw Harry before he boarded a plane to Kentucky and they spoke. Speaking is a generous term for what they really did, which was yelling and a lot of it. Two years later and they still sting.

“Yes,” Harry says, sounding sad and careful. He sets his cup down on the saucer. “Kind of like me.”

Eggsy swallows as tears well in his eyes and loses his appetite. Granted, he didn’t have much of one to begin with and what was there is certainly gone now he’s lost in the growing silence. There had been a time in which Eggsy couldn’t speak of what happened, though it’s grown easier. Now that Harry is, well, _alive_ , they ought to discuss it. Clearing his throat, Eggsy says, “Did you mean it? What you said that day?”

“No,” Harry says. “Not even for a moment.” His warm, gun calloused hand touches Eggsy’s wrist. “I should have never told you those things; they were said out of anger and unnecessarily cruel.”

“Should have chosen better last words, bruv,” Eggsy tells him with a watery smirk.

Harry chuckles. “Indeed I should have.” He stares at him with a look of regret written all over his face. “Can you ever forgive me, dear boy?”

He nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Harry says, genuinely pleased.

Eggsy doesn’t comment on the relief loosening Harry’s shoulders, and Harry says he’ll get Nigel to knock some sense into Merlin.

It’s probably one of the better evenings Eggsy’s had in a while.

 

* * *

 

He comes back from Kentucky to news that Merlin will be released in a few days’ time.

Eggsy thinks of all the things he needs to do around the flat—grocery shopping, changing the linens if the cleaning service hasn’t already done so, purchasing whatever Hanover wants him to purchase, fetching JB from his mum’s—and becomes more excited with each passing second. Merlin will be home and back in his usual surroundings. Being stuck in ICU makes anyone go a bit mad, but having such a traumatic injury probably aggravates it.

He takes a cab from Heathrow to the Royal London Hospital with excitement buzzing through him. They haven’t spoken in the two weeks he’s been gone; he’s been busy at Statesman while Merlin has been fitted for a temporary prosthetic and begun physio—all of which he found out from Ginger Ale-Whiskey-Vivian, which grates on Eggsy’s last _fucking_ nerve. He takes it in stride because, well, it ain’t her fault that Merlin’s decided to be an arsehole. That’s what he’s trying to tell himself, anyway.

When he finds Merlin standing by the window, wearing a grey jumper brought by one of his siblings and looking almost like himself, it's a vast improvement from the paper-thin hospital gown he’s been wearing for weeks. Seeing him with color to his stubble-covered cheeks and crutches under his armpits, Eggsy feels like he might be able to breathe and they’ll be fine. It’s just one of those shitty rough patches he’s heard about; the ones that all couples go through.

Except it’s not.

Merlin does the one thing he swore he would never do—he leaves and breaks Eggsy’s heart in the process.

And it won’t be the last time.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Eggsy realizes when he wakes is that Harry is a real bruv.

Who else would let someone move all their shit in when they show up on their doorstep with an antsy pug in tow, no questions asked? Not many, Eggsy reckons. Probably no one, now that Eggsy thinks about it.

Maybe he didn’t have to tell Harry about it, judging by the sad look on his face; knowing Harry, he probably already knew. Well, now Eggsy doesn’t need to explain that Merlin chucked him to the curb and he left their flat as if he was never there in the first place.

Because that’s what Merlin wants. He even said so; _I want you out of the flat_ still rings in Eggsy’s ears as he lies in the unfamiliar bed, under the equally unfamiliar ceiling of Harry’s guest room. They had built a life, a home, only for Merlin to push him out of it.

 _Probably to make room for Vivian_ , Eggsy thinks, bitterly. He might be young, but he ain’t fucking dumb. Merlin could barely stand to look at him on the best of days if he wasn’t being a snappish arsehole or pretending to be asleep because Eggsy knows he was only pretending.

Or maybe he is an idiot for believing that Merlin wouldn’t hurt him. That’s what people do in the end, whether they mean to or not.

As he squeezes his eyes shut and pretends that Merlin’s face stares back or that he doesn’t expect to be in their bedroom when he opens them, Eggsy decides his _ex-boyfriend_ ain’t worth his time. He’s better off without him.

(It doesn’t work.)

 

* * *

 

Every time Eggsy wakes up in the morning, he wonders how he’s still breathing.

 _It’s probably temporary_ , Eggsy thinks as he goes about his routine and pretends he’s coping. He’s just going through the motions of healing or whatever it is he’s supposed to do. This is his first real break-up, which he ain’t about to confess that to anyone, _especially_ Trevor who will probably tell _everyone_ within a fifty-kilometer radius because Trevor is a cunt like that.

He pretends like people do; he acts like he’s fine when Merlin’s brother and sister (and sometimes, parents) phone him just to check in, he has dinner with his mum and sister, goes out with the lads, spends entirely too much money on cinema tickets at Roxy’s behest, and goes on missions like any other Kingsman. He and Trevor cause all sorts of mayhem because, well, it’s nice to have someone around with a mischievous streak and no pole up their arse. Harry and Champagne are certainly unamused by their antics, but what does it even matter _how_ they do it? It’s getting done and with minimal damage, for the most part.

(Except for that one time in Argentina…which was absolutely one-hundred-percent not his fault!)

When Eggsy returns to London, the dull ache in his chest worsens because he’s just that much closer to Merlin and yet, not really. They haven’t seen each other since the hospital; Merlin isn’t technically on active duty yet, while Eggsy has been bounced around to all rounded-edges of the global. People have mentioned him in passing, whispering his name like it will cause Eggsy to meltdown, and he doesn’t really know how to take it. He certainly doesn’t mention anything to Harry or Roxy since Merlin is their friend, too, and he’s not going to be some troublemaking wanker about the whole thing.

But, _fuck_ , Eggsy misses him and every fucking thing about him!

He decides that once his mandatory rest period is up, he’s going to march into HQ to have a chat with the soppy bastard. It’s about high time they do it, seeing how they’ve been broken up for three months and Eggsy can’t be the only one who feels like he’s missing part of himself.

(And yeah, he realizes how poor his choice of words are.)

Eggsy wears the suit Merlin likes best with the tie he gave him for no reason other than he thought that Eggsy would like it and strolls down the newly finished corridor leading to his office. He’s already done the pep talk as he got dressed that morning and completely thought he had this on lock, but, fuck, this is bloody nerve-wracking! But he’s Galahad. He’s saved the world twice now and defeated more evil-doers than he can count.

He can sure as hell have a deep, much-needed conversation with his ex-boyfriend!

Even with Trevor and Roxy following, catching him on his way over. They’re going on about grabbing lunch and while Eggsy thinks they’re pretty great, neither of them can’t take a hint sometimes. Eggsy’s about to tell them to shove off because he’s got some shit to take care of when he comes upon the opened door to Merlin’s office and sees _Merlin mid-kiss with Vivian_ and holy fuck, how is this his life?

He stands frozen with his heart hammering in his chest and nausea churning in his stomach, trying to remember to _breathe_ because Eggsy thinks he might forget. A ragged gasp falls from his lips as he turns on his heel, taking two steps before he breaks into a run. He doesn’t stop until he’s sitting in the backseat of one of the cabs, stammering for the driver to take him home while his tears feel like they might be burning holes in his eyeballs.

Eggsy manages to keep himself from falling apart until he stumbles into his bedroom. He collapses onto all fours at the foot of his bed, screaming and sobbing until his throat is raw and he curls into a ball. That’s where Harry finds him forty-five minutes later; shaking and shivering and whimpering on the floor. He rushes to Eggsy’s side, removing his jacket and tie before scooping him up into his arms. Harry holds him close, not caring if a variety of tears, sweat, and snot end up on his bespoke clothing or that his back is going to kill him in the morning. No matter how much or long Eggsy cries for, Harry doesn’t leave. The dog walking service comes for JB and Pickle, who mercifully stay out of the way.

At some point—hours later judging by how dark it is now—Harry shifts their bodies and suggests, “perhaps I can put the kettle on while you freshen up,” to which Eggsy nods. After all, he feels fucking rank and needs to change out of his clothes; probably burn the entire suit, honestly. While Harry goes to the kitchen to make them a cuppa, Eggsy takes a shower. His entire body feels sore all over like he’s been ill, and he’s fairly certain his voice is gone.

He gets as far as putting on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt before lying down on the bed. Eggsy doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but the world just tilts away from him. One moment he’s staring at the closet with clothes neatly hung on hangers, then the next it’s dark and there are three beings next to him. The dogs curl up at his and Harry’s feet while Harry occupies the other side of the mattress, snoring softly.

Part of Eggsy wishes it was Merlin sleeping next to him in their bed, in their flat, in the home they made together. He swallows, remembering that those things don’t belong to him anymore, and falls back asleep still amazed that he’s somehow breathing.

 

* * *

 

(No one tells you waking up is the easy part.

Good thing that Eggsy is a quick study.)

 

* * *

 

Eggsy pretty much goes off the rails after witnessing Vivian _snogging his ex_ , but can anyone blame him?

Roxy complains that he’s acting very high-handed and aloof while he reverts back to the way he did when he lived on the estates in Trevor’s company. Eggsy’s lost count of how many times he’s been reprimanded by Harry—or on one memorable occasion, Champagne, who flew in from Kentucky just to yell at him for an hour. It’s pretty fucking hilarious, honestly, because it seems that these posh wankers have forgotten where he grew up and that this ain’t an overnight development. His lack of a silver spoon shoved up his arse has saved the world more than times than any other Kingsman or Statesman and ain’t because of his _manners_ or _sense of decorum_. In fact, it’s probably why Harry submitted him for candidacy, and he likes to remind him of that.

“I expected more from a Kingsman agent of your caliber, Galahad,” Harry fumes one afternoon.

Eggsy rolls his eyes over his teacup before setting it down. “You knew what you was proposin’ when you met me, Harry.”

“It’s _Arthur_ ,” Harry snaps immediately. “Do I need to remind you that this is an _official_ meeting? As in, on the fucking record!”

“Nah, _Arthur_. You don’t,” Eggsy fires back, a bit peeved. Sometimes it’s hard to take a verbal lashing when you’re living with your boss, but whatever. Harry will have his knickers in a twist for the rest of the day and by the time they arrive home, it’ll be forgotten. “But Tequila and me, we finished the mission _ahead of schedule_ with no fuss. So what’s the problem then?”

“The _problem_ is you being reckless and careless with very little regard for your own personal safety!” Harry tells him, which Eggsy doesn’t correct. It’s true and there’s no denying. “What if something happened to you? What about Daisy or your mother?”

That fucking stings and Eggsy winces. He has thought about that—far too many times, but tucked it neatly in the back of his mind while on a mission. It’s not like he can be distracted…well, more distracted than he already has been. “Nothing will happen,” he says, quietly.

“Don’t be sure of that,” Harry replies, seemingly foreshadowing his trip to Sweden.

Which, by the way, would have been fucking aces in retrospect because shit! Like he hasn’t had enough to deal with, you know?

He goes to visit Tilde, because, well, he hasn’t seen her since rushing out of the palace and onto the private jet taking him back to London when the glasses feed cut out just as Roxy was swearing and explosions rang in his ears. Eggsy tells her about Merlin dumping him and she invites him to Stockholm for a long weekend for his birthday.

“To celebrate you and get your mind off him,” she says, kindly, after Eggsy’s griped about having to see Merlin with Vivian, who is probably absolutely lovely if she _wasn’t fucking the love of his life_ , and pretend to be unfazed. Which he isn’t; he’s a fucking mess! “We could go clubbing. Dancing, drinking, recreational drug use…”

Eggsy chuckles. “I see the Golden Circle hasn’t affected your love of spiffs then?”

“Oh hush you!” Tilde teases. “Come on, Eggsy. It’ll be fun! Perhaps you’ll meet someone…”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.” The idea of being with someone—someone else who isn’t Merlin—doesn’t sit well with him, and it’s not like people haven’t tried. He simply has no desire to.

Tilde sighs in understanding; even if she is a princess, she’s had her heart broken, too, and if Eggsy ever meets the bird who did it, he might break her legs. “We’ll just have a good time, then!”

So he goes to Stockholm where he drinks entirely too much and dances until his legs are trembling. It’s all aces until Eggsy accidentally roofies himself after some wanker was tossed out of the club and Tilde’s personal security took the wrong champagne glass, which he drinks because fuck his life. Eggsy doesn’t remember much after, only that he swears he sees Merlin’s face through the crowd and misses him so much he can hardly stand it.

Eggsy wakes up in Tilde’s private apartments inside Drottningholm Palace with an IV in his arm, Harry and Tilde by his bedside, and a bruise the exact size and width of Tilde’s hand on his cheek where she slapped him repeatedly to keep him awake until help arrived because _what the hell, Tilde_! He can’t even muster enough strength to be embarrassed about it or try to convince Harry that he wasn’t even trying to cause a problem. Eggsy guesses Tilde saw to explaining that to him since Harry keeps his bitching to a minimum, nor does he force him to see Dr. Hanover once they return home.

Harry brings him tea in bed, which he sets on the table before sitting down. His hand rubs Eggsy’s knee through the blankets as he offers a sympathetic smile and waits for Eggsy to say something. Pickle, who’s been playing tug-o-war with JB, trots over to him and curls up next to Harry’s thigh. JB snorts at the other dog as he carries their toy over to Eggsy and drops it in his lap before flopping beside him. Eggsy rubs JB’s belly, watching as his tongue lolls out of his mouth; anything to keep him from making eye contact with Harry.

It’s weird what they’ve become—this father-son unit that Eggsy never had after his dad died—and he’s not exactly sorry for it. Harry might chastise him like a parent scolding their child or shoot him a glare that rivals his mum’s, but Eggsy loves him for it. Maybe that’s why Eggsy finally cracks because he can’t really keep anything from Harry.

“I really fuckin’ miss him,” he whispers, too tired to cry or lie.

Harry squeezes his knee. “I know you do,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Okay, so, it’s not like he woke up and thought, _today would be a great day to steal a painting_.

It’s really a sketch, but whatever; Eggsy doesn’t care, and it’s all Napoleon’s idea anyway. They both happened to be in Florence, where they grabbed drinks the night before and Eggsy brought up Napoleon’s past (and sometimes current) hobby of _illegally procuring_ artwork while Illya was in the lavatory. Yeah, he’s been going full throttle lately, but it doesn’t mean he wants to be pummeled to death by a one-hundred and ninety-eight-centimeter tall Russian giant! So he leans in all sneaky-like, like he’s about to proposition Napoleon, and says, “So art theft?” Then it pretty much spiraled out from there, turning into some sort of caper like _The Italian Job_ (the British one, _obviously_ ) and Eggsy ends up running down the street with a genuine Titian rolled up under his arm with a very angry Florentine mafioso trying to stop him before he slid into the passenger seat of the automobile Napoleon hotwired.

Roxy is positively livid, Illya looks like he might be beside himself or not-so-secretly plotting Napoleon’s death, and Harry is so narked off that he keeps Eggsy behind after another Round Table meeting. He really shouldn’t be so pleased with himself, but it makes it easier to bear seeing Vivian leaning in to whisper something into Merlin’s ear.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy tries not to notice that Vivian hasn’t been around as much and if she is, she’s hardly in Merlin’s company unless if it’s work related.

He doesn’t bother asking Roxy or Trevor or even Harry about it. If he’s learned anything, hope is a futile exercise that only leads to disappointment.

Anyway, it’s not like he has time to; he has a plane to catch to Romania and some THRUSH arse-kicking to do.

 

* * *

 

No one tells you waking up is the easy part.

Of being in a coma, that is, and Eggsy supposes they may be right. He’s still on the fence about that, but at least he’s alive and breathing—kind of. That’s fucking aces considering he pretty much died for three minutes, but he also has a nasal cannula shoved up his nose because, well, he took a bullet to his lung as well as two in the gut.

So for those keeping score (which is probably _just_ Eggsy): he’s alive and not dead, he’s breathing at a reduced lung capacity because, well, bullets tend to do that to you, and he’s more knackered than he’s ever been in his _entire life_.

Eggsy remembers there were _people in his hospital room_ before he thought he was only blinking and woke up to an undetermined amount of time passing because he was knocked the fuck out _again_. He _hates_ that part, and while his friends might be understanding, doesn’t mean Eggsy is! He reckons it’s better than the alternatives: being dead, still in a coma, or delirious. Having no recollection of any of those, Eggsy guesses he prefers this.

The fuck he’s kidding himself—he hates all of it! Every bloody fucking thing! He especially wants to know why Trevor keeps snickering like Eggsy made an arsehole out of himself.

(“He’s fucking with you,” Roxy tells him, time and time again. “Just ignore it.”

“Easy for you to say! You’re not the one he’s laughin’ at,” Eggsy grouses.

“Oh love, we do that anyway,” Roxy deadpans before her expression falters and she laughs in his fucking face.

Seriously, when he gets back to London, he’s finding himself new mates because what the fuck?)

He blinks himself awake for the umpteenth time and lets out a groan. Eggsy wonders where he went wrong in his life to have to endure _this_ , then a little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot like Roxy says _where shall you like me to begin_ and he groans again. He doesn’t remember much of the night he was shot—only flashes here and there like he’s watching a scratched DVD that’s skipping all through the movie. It’s strange not to recall the events leading up to his injuries, save for the precious seconds preceding it.

Merlin’s voice as he shouted and Eggsy shouting back. He was so angry at Merlin for stepping on that landmine and nearly getting himself killed in the process. Still angry for being chucked aside when he knew Merlin needed him most. Narked the fuck off at catching Merlin _kissing_ Ginger Ale-Whiskey-Vivian-whatever in Merlin’s office and having to watch them out of the corner of his eye for six months before they broke up. And then Merlin said:

_Because this world isn’t worth living in without you in it, Eggsy!_

_Because I fucking love you!_

And Eggsy wanted to tell him that he still loved— _loves_ —Merlin beyond all comprehension and reason and life itself and that they were going to have a fucking talk about communicating when he got back, but the words never left his mouth. Eggsy reckons that was the moment he was shot and careened into darkness, but he doesn’t remember that either. He just went headlong into the ether like he’s done with everything else and that was that. Almost like blinking.

Comas aren’t like what films and television serials make them out to be. You don’t hear voices for one thing, though you don’t really hear _anything_. It’s just long, endless and heavy darkness wrapped around you until you’re able to break through—well, _if_ you’re able to, that is. You don’t remember that either. And, well…Eggsy should really be dead. He knows that without anyone having to tell him; Eggsy sees it in their faces when they look at him. Not many come back from death, which isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

There’s no white light for one. No life flashing before your eyes or visits from long-deceased relatives, either. Just one moment you’re alive and the next…you’re toast. He’s being rather blasé about it and Eggsy knows that, too. If he could spare the energy he might get worked up about it, but he digresses.

“You’re awake,” Merlin says, drawing Eggsy from his thoughts. He stands on the threshold of the bathroom door, looking devastatingly fit with a worn-out Arsenal t-shirt and pajama bottoms and glasses perched on his nose. He flips off the light switch as he watches Eggsy for any signs of discomfort.

Out of everyone still in Romania, Merlin’s been by Eggsy’s side the most—he’s been practically living in the hospital room. Eggsy suspects no one has a say in the matter and no one’s about to argue with him; Eggsy ain’t complaining. They’re taking this next phase of their relationship slowly; nothing physical—which, considering the current circumstances, isn’t going to be a problem—beyond kisses and hand holding and not using the B word… _yet_.

“How’s the pain?” Merlin asks. “Did you need me to get you anything?”

Eggsy tries to move, only to wince when the stitches pull uncomfortably at his skin. His back aches something awful and he feels like he should be someone’s grandad. “Not to fall asleep mid-conversation and waking up five hours later,” he replies as Merlin dumps his things on a chair and comes over to help him. “For Trevor to stop laughin’ at me,” he adds while Merlin rearranges the pillows propping him up. Once he’s half-lying, half-sitting against them, Merlin goes about untangling his legs from the blankets. “And a proper soak in the tub; no more of this sponge bath shit! We’re in the twenty-first century, not the time of the Puritans.”

Merlin pauses to laugh. He looks more carefree when he does; his entire face lights up and he becomes the person Eggsy sees in private. “You know that’s not up to me,” he says as he pulls the blankets over Eggsy’s lap and smoothes them out. “It’s a critical time in your recovery and anything could cause a setback.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eggsy grumbles as he picks at the top blanket’s edge. “Should be countin’ my lucky stars.”

“It’s only been four days since you’ve really come out of it,” Merlin adds, trying to be encouraging.

Eggsy tilts his head. “You _can_ say coma. It won’t offend my sensibilities.”

“Aye, but what about Dr. Ionescu?” Merlin stage-whispers in case if the man in question happens to be lurking around. Neither one of them are particularly fond of the doctor’s habit of popping up out of nowhere and seeming annoyed when anyone startles.

He bursts into laughter, only to regret a moment later. Eggsy’s stomach flares up in pain and steals his breath. Clutching his midsection, Eggsy feels the gauze padding the area where his skin’s been stitched back together. As he breathes out, he notices Merlin looking like he’s about to reach for the call button. “Fuck me, that hurts!” he wheezes. “I’ll be fine in a second.”

“Well, getting shot isn’t _supposed_ to feel good,” Merlin reminds him as he sits in the chair pushed up next to Eggsy’s bed. Eggsy feels Merlin watching him. “Do you need a hit?” he asks, gesturing to the morphine drip.

Eggsy’s been trying to use it sparingly, just enough to keep the pain from getting the best of him. The sour taste in his mouth and stinging sensation in his arm whenever it floods his veins is decidedly unpleasant. If Eggsy could, he would rip the bloody IV line. “Half a hit, if you wouldn’t mind,” he finally says as he squeezes his eyes shut. He winces at the side effects until his stomach fills with warmth and he thinks his head might be floating in the stratosphere.

“Better?”

Eggsy blinks, his vision blurry until he blinks again and Merlin’s face appears more crisply than before. “Hi,” he says, drugged.

“Hello,” Merlin says back. His mouth twitches with amusement; Eggsy wants to grab him by the collar and pull him down for a snog. “You look like you’re having the time of your life.”

“Babe, you’ve got to try this stuff,” Eggsy tells him with a grin. He tilts his head as he reaches for Merlin; drugs also make him very touchy-feely. “I can’t feel my face.”

Merlin snorts, sounding both soft and fond. “I can assure that it’s where it should be.” His fingers brush against Eggsy’s, lacing them together and giving them a gentle squeeze. He leans closer to him to push Eggsy’s hair away from his forehead; it feels like a proper mess sitting on top of his head and hasn’t been washed in days. Eggsy has no idea how Merlin can stand to do it. “ _A ghràidh_ , are you going to fall asleep on me?”

“Probably,” Eggsy mumbles. He feels his body sinking into the mattress while his eyelids become too heavy to keep open. He might as well stop fighting it. “Sorry,” he slurs. It’s unable to be helped, but Eggsy’s still apologetic. “Wanted to spend some time with you…”

Merlin presses his lips to Eggsy’s temple. “There’s always tomorrow,” he assures. “And the day after that,” he adds, almost cautiously, or maybe it’s just Eggsy’s imagination.

“And the day after that,” he whispers as his eyelids droop shut to Merlin’s fingers in his hair and rubbing his knuckles.

He has pleasant dreams.

 

* * *

 

  
Eggsy gets why he’s been kept in bed; he looks and feels like utter shit as if that wasn’t apparent already.

He’s never felt so _sick_ in his entire life, and having been a Kingsman for the better part of three years, that’s saying something. Eggsy’s come back in various stages of injury, though it’s just never been this bad before. Dr. Ionescu orders the catheter removed from his prick—which _ow_ —and allows for a short shower that he must take while seated in an uncomfortable plastic chair while a nurse supervises. Eggsy bites his tongue because frankly, Ionescu didn’t seem all that keen on letting any of these things happen.

Standing in front of the sink to brush his teeth, Eggsy gets a better look at himself and notes his pale skin, the beginnings of a beard, and some cuts he sustained during the firefight at the THRUSH facility. The worst of his injuries still reside in his gut and lung, but at least he can go off the nasal cannula for an hour or two before he becomes winded again. He squints at his reflection and decides that the beard’s got to go.

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Roxy shouts from the main room. She sits on the bed, reading a magazine while the nurse helps Eggsy undress and get into the shower.

“You don’t have a spot-filled kid’s beard on your face,” he shouts back before adding more quietly, “If you could even call it that. It’s scraggly lookin’ too!”

Roxy shrugs. “You don’t have spots, for one, Eggsy,” she points out as she hops off the bed and comes to stand in the doorway. “And while you act like a child, your birthdate says otherwise.”

Eggsy harrumphs as the nurse leads him over to the chair situated in the shower stall. Shutting the curtain, she makes quick work of his hospital gown removing his dressings. The area around the puckered skin is spectacularly discolored and bruised, which Eggsy expected, and a mite swollen. “Fuck me,” he grumbles.

“How does it look?” Roxy asks.

“It ain’t great,” he replies back. He can’t really twist around to get a better view, but just running his fingers over the three wounds makes him flinch. They’re tender, and it’s no wonder that moving around has been difficult.

Roxy’s loafers click on the floor as she comes closer. “Do you need any help?” she asks both Eggsy and the nurse. Having lived in the recruit dormitory and been friends since then, it’s safe to assume that Roxy has seen Eggsy naked and vice versa.

“I think I’ll be fine,” Eggsy answers, honestly. “But if you wouldn’t mind stayin’ nearby, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Roxy says, as if there was no other answer. “Just say the word.”

Showering goes as quickly as Eggsy does, which isn’t very quick at all. He tires halfway through rinsing shampoo out of his hair and has to rely on the nurse to scrub down the rest of him. The nurse does this as thoroughly and gently as possible and before Eggsy realizes it, she’s draping a warm towel around his waist. It’s not the glorious soak in a tub he’s been dreaming of, but for the first time since coming here, Eggsy feels a bit more like himself.

Outside of the shower stall, Eggsy pulls on the flannel pajama pants he stole from Merlin without realizing it and a pair of thick socks at the behest of the nurse. He has to contend with another hospital gown, but at least his arse isn’t in danger of flashing anyone.

“Galahad,” the nurse calls while she assists him with getting the sleeve of his hoodie over the disconnected IV port. “Would you be up for a walk up and down the corridor?”

As much as he wants to lie in bed, Eggsy knows he really ought to move around. Apparently, it’s supposed to help him heal faster and if it means getting him out of here sooner and away from a hospital room, then he’ll do it. “Yeah, alright,” he says.

The moment he makes it out of the room and into the corridor, he complains, “I’m like an old man!”

“Hardly,” Roxy tells him. She has her arm around his waist, keeping him steady since he’s still horribly _unsteady_ on his feet. The weight of her next to him feels welcoming and a reminder that she’s alive. It’s been nearly a year since Poppy Adams sent her missiles to destroy Kingsman, only to leave a scant few of them breathing. God, he’s glad Roxy’s one of them. “Believe it or not, your core has a lot to do with movement, which you were kind enough to injure.”

Eggsy makes a face. “And _you’re_ kind enough to remind me,” he fires back as they walk. He scratches his facial hair and grimaces. “I need to shave this off. Fuck, I’ll even use Trevor’s _electric razor_.” The thought still makes his skin crawl.

Roxy giggles. “I can be of assistance when we get back to your room,” she says. She quirks a brow. “Unless if you wanted a certain gentleman to do it.”

He shoots her a glare. “What are you tryin’ to imply?”

“Only that he’d be more than happy to help,” Roxy answers with a sly grin. “How’s that reconciliation going? Is it very _Pride and Prejudice_ or more _Wuthering Heights_?”

“ _It’s none of your business_ , is what it is!” Eggsy snaps at her. As much as he would like to work on things with Merlin in private, the circumstances won’t allow it. Trevor, Gregory, and Roxy are here because Romania was their mission as well as his, while Merlin and Harry flew in while he was being operated on. All of them have stuck around, though Trevor and Gregory will be leaving soon for new missions.

(“So soon?” he asked Harry one evening.

Harry, who had been reading one of his thick, hard-covered books, looked up from the pages and over the rim of his glasses before answering. “One of our best agents is down and we need all of the help we can get.”

For his smirk, Eggsy flicked two fingers at him.)

Hell, if it means Eggsy doesn’t have to see Trevor’s snickering face, by all means, send him to the farthest reaches. Preferably in the Arctic.

Roxy rolls her eyes in typical Roxy fashion, like he’s talking nonsense and as his de facto best friend, everything concerning him is her business. “I’m serious,” she says. “Have you two talked it out?”

“Of course we have,” Eggsy says, annoyed. “Do you _really_ think I would let him stay in my room without doin’ that first? I might be rough, but I’m not fuckin’ daft!” He lets out a groan as his stomach flares up again. “Can we sit?”

Roxy nods and leads him over to a row of chairs lined up against the wall. Unlike civilian hospitals, these are made of plush, buttery leather and feel like heaven under his worn out body. “I just wanted to make sure,” she tells him. “You seemed so relieved to have Merlin there that I thought you might have gotten caught up in the moment.” Roxy runs her teeth over her bottom lip, a habit for when she’s nervous, and holds one of Eggsy’s hands in both of hers. “Eggs, you were absolutely miserable _and_ positively miserable to be around. I don’t want to see you getting hurt again.”

She doesn’t have to say more than that because it’s true—he was a heartbroken terror and it’s probably a miracle that he hadn’t got wounded sooner. Eggsy thinks he might understand his mum a bit better now since she, too, had the love of her life ripped away. Why she ended up with the likes of Dean and sunk into a world of booze and drugs…

Merlin wasn’t dead, but he was with someone else; Eggsy doesn’t know which is worse, nor does he want to think about it any longer than he has to.

“I know,” he says after a while. Eggsy rests his head against hers and sighs, thinking of the conversation he had with Merlin on the first night Eggsy remembered actually being awake. How he came out of the depths like he was resurfacing after a long swim to find Merlin sitting at his bedside. Eggsy thought he had imagined hearing Merlin say that he loved him until Merlin confirmed it was true. Then the rest followed after.

Roxy gives him a gentle shake and Eggsy realizes he had his eyes closed. “You’re falling asleep on me,” she tells him. “Do you think you can make it back to your room?”

“Think so,” Eggsy says. They haven’t gone far; just down the corridor, and if he can’t make it back, he’s more fucked than he originally thought. He’s growing a bit sore from the exercise, which isn’t too terrible, but Eggsy reckons he should have some pain medication when he gets into bed. “Maybe we could watch a movie.”

“I believe that could be arranged,” Roxy says, giving his hand a squeeze as they walk to his room. “What are you in the mood for?”

Eggsy shrugs. “Nothing that will make me laugh hard. It still hurts when I do that.”

“What about _Justice League_?” Roxy suggests.

“Would Gregory and Trevor want to come down to watch it with us?” Eggsy asks as they come to his room.

Roxy helps him to bed, then presses the call button so one of the nurses can reconnect Eggsy’s port to the IV line. “I don’t see why not,” she says as she pulls the blankets over him. When she’s finished, Roxy kisses his cheek and ruffles his hair. “You _are_ an idiot, but I’ll spare you the lecture until you’re well.”

“Harry already beat you to it,” Eggsy tells him, tiredly.

“Perhaps once more couldn’t hurt,” Roxy says with a sweet smile. “You know, to drive the point in.”

The nurse comes in to interrupt them. She helps Eggsy shrug off his hoodie before reconnecting the line and pushing through some pain medication. Lying back with a happy sigh, Eggsy closes his eyes and lets the warm sensation wash over him. He listens to the nurse typing away on her tablet while Roxy shuffles through the streaming channels on the television to find the chosen film when her mobile isn’t going off with texts from their colleagues.

Eggsy thinks he must doze off for a minute because when he comes back to himself it’s to the sounds of Ben Affleck’s downright terrible rendition of the Batman voice and Trevor howling with laughter. The delicious, buttery scent of popcorn fills the air. “You started without me?” he wonders out loud, drawing Roxy, Gregory, and Trevor’s attention away from the film.

“You didn’t miss much,” Roxy assures. She sticks her hand into one of those microwavable popcorn bags and grabs a fist full before passing it off to Gregory. “Just Wonder Woman kicking arse and Batfleck.”

Trevor sits closest to him. While he’s been a right arsehole by snickering at him, Eggsy can’t help but be thankful that he was there the night he was shot. It had been Trevor’s quick thinking that saved his life. “Want some, G-man?” He waves another bag in front of Eggsy.

“Are you allowed?” Gregory asks, looking more at Trevor than Eggsy. He’s a few years older than Trevor and an extraordinarily good looking bloke in that old time matinee idol way with piercing yellow-green eyes and a crop of blond hair, not to mention fucking lethal. Eggsy’s gone on a few missions with him and has seen Gregory in action, which is quite the juxtaposition from his off-duty self, which is incredibly soft-spoken and thoughtful with a fondness for volunteering at the local animal shelter.

Eggsy shrugs. “Dunno,” he answers, honestly. “Haven’t really had much of an appetite, ya know?”

“He can have some,” Trevor says, loudly. “I doubt some popcorn is going to kill him.”

“Unless if it has bullets,” Eggsy says as Trevor hands him the bag and takes some for himself. “Someone catch me up,” he adds as he begins to pick at his fill of popcorn.

As it turns out, he really hasn’t missed much—only the first twenty minutes—and no one seems particularly invested in watching these characters saving the world. It’s just something to take their minds off why they’re still in Romania and that a week ago, Eggsy was still in and out of consciousness, having barely come out of his coma. He thinks during that time he must have said something that got Trevor all riled up and he doesn’t really want to know what.

Another nurse comes in to take his vitals and doesn’t say anything about the popcorn crumbs sticking to the front of his hospital gown. She does a piss-poor job at hiding her smile, but it’s fine. Eggsy ain’t bothered.

 

* * *

 

Harry leaves a few days after Trevor and Gregory, which Eggsy is not pleased about.

He knows that it’s sheer luck that Harry’s been able to stay in Romania as long as he has with being who he is. Kingsman needs their Arthur back in London and Harry must resume his duties, not to mention Pickle has eaten through two pairs of Percival’s slippers. Eggsy’s still a bit narked off because it means one less person by his side and a reminder that he still isn’t able to return home.

“You _are_ making excellent progress,” Harry tells him over lunch the afternoon before he leaves; the jet is being fueled up as they speak. He doesn’t comment on how Eggsy pushes his food around the plate because Harry knows all too well what it’s like recovering from gunshot wounds. “Dr. Ionescu thinks you may be able to return to London within two weeks.”

Eggsy shrugs, still pouting. “He could change his mind.”

“Only if your recovery is somehow hindered and from my understanding, you have been a very good patient. I’m certain Xavier will be chuffed to hear it,” Harry says with a dimpled smile.

“That’s because Hanover is a pain in the arse,” Eggsy says. He sets his fork down with a sigh and looks at Harry. “I don’t want you to go.”

Harry takes a soft sound as he sets his plate on the bedside table and moves closer. Taking both of Eggsy’s hands in his, he squeezes them gently. “Eggsy,” he intones. “My dear boy, I’ll just be a phone call away.”

He’s being a soppy arsehole about this. “I want my own bed,” Eggsy whines. “With JB cuddled next to me, even when you’ve given him a piece of bacon and he farts all night. Pickle, too.”

“Soon,” Harry assures, trying not to chuckle.

“I just want to be _home_ ,” he says, quietly. His eyes burn from either emotion or fatigue; Eggsy isn’t quite sure anymore.

Harry cups his newly shaven cheek—thanks to Roxy’s intervention and Merlin for allowing them to borrow his shaving kit—and sighs. “I understand,” he says in a fatherly way. If anyone does, it’s him _and_ Merlin. “I wish you could come back tonight, but we both know it would risk your recovery. You’ve only just been removed from the nasal cannula.”

Eggsy nods because Harry’s right about that. It’s only been a few days since Dr. Ionescu ordered its removal and he thought he was going to cry tears of inundated joy. “I _know_. Don’t make it any easier, mind.”

He expects Harry to say something like ‘patience is a virtue’ or ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ or whatever proverbial phrases he has up the sleeves of his bespoke button-down. Instead, Harry sighs in sympathy and pats his cheek. “You’ll be home soon,” he repeats because what else can be said, really?

Merlin joins them as Harry gathers his things before he heads to the jet and Eggsy looks on, annoyed and a bit dejected. Not even Merlin’s presence lightens his mood, which usually works, and he continues to sit there and pout. “Is everything alright?” Merlin asks, concerned and guiltily almost as if he’s done something.

“Someone is feeling a bit homesick,” Harry says, carefully. Eggsy notices him jutting his chin towards the corridor, but doesn’t mention it.

“Ah,” Merlin replies after a moment, looking rather relieved which Eggsy will need to ask him about later. He pushes the sleeves up on his jumper and says, “Let’s see what we can do about that then.”

There isn’t much Merlin can do other than offer to put a film on or see if there’s a replay of a football game, but that will only distract Eggsy for so long. Though, the clearly strained interactions between Harry and Merlin could certainly do the trick. As Eggsy watches them be overly, obnoxious polite to one another in that stiff upper lip sort of way, he knows something is off with those two. He tries not to be obvious in his observations, can’t help but wonder what sort of argument they’ve gotten into because they surely have.

Perhaps Harry gave Merlin the ‘you hurt him again, I’ll blow off your remaining kneecap’ speech, which would be such a shame since Roxy was really hoping to do it, or word got back to Eggsy’s mum about what they all do for a living and she’s going to murder every last one of them while Eggsy, himself, will be grounded for all eternity.

Unlikely, but then again, Eggsy has seen some fucked up shit in the past two and a half years. Criminally insane billionaires with poor fashion taste with the technology to develop SIM cards that set off a frequency that triggers animalistic rage. Or drug cartel leaders with an appreciation bordering on obsession for the 1950s and 1960s throwbacks with soda fountains, burger joints, and sock hops…when she wasn’t trying to poison her own product. Assistants with actual _blades_ as prosthetic legs or, in Charlie’s case, a robotic arm and voice box.

Then there’s the weird shit Kingsman has—poisoned blades inside oxfords, a gold-plated lighter that’s really a grenade, rings, and cufflinks that emit electric shocks, a distillery that really houses more weapons that most countries would dream of having, and god knows what else. Being a part of this, being a Kingsman agent, sometimes makes Eggsy’s head spin.

He notices Harry and Merlin sequestering themselves off to the side where they bicker quietly until Merlin notices Eggsy looking at them and hits Harry on the arm. “Don’t think this conversation is over,” Merlin warns.

“It will be if you insist on continuing to act like a child,” Harry fires back before flashing Eggsy a smile. For a super spy, Harry is fairly easy to read once he opens up, such as he’s done for Eggsy. Just one look at him and Eggsy notices the sadness and regret written into his face. “I should be off,” he says.

Eggsy nods, solemnly. “Come ‘ere, Harry, you soppy bastard,” he demands as he opens his arms for a hug.

“Now,” Harry begins to say when they pull apart, “do try to behave for Dr. Ionescu and if not him, Merlin and Roxy. All of us want you home as much as you want to be there.”

He lets out a heavy, annoyed sigh because _he knows about all of this_. Everyone wants him home, he wants himself home, etcetera, and so on.

“Eggsy,” Harry says more sternly. He raises his eyebrows over the thick frames of his glasses.

“Yes, Harry,” Eggsy grumbles. “I’ll be good. You won’t hear nothin’ ‘bout me. I’ll be a model patient, yeah?”

Harry rolls his eye and looks at Merlin. Despite their earlier disagreement (and Eggsy _will_ find out some way or another), he smiles good-naturedly and says, “Keep an eye on this one, will you?”

“Aye, if it’s the last thing I do,” Merlin promises. He glances at Eggsy to smile fondly at him and suddenly Eggsy’s cheeks begin to burn hotly. All he can think and hope is that neither of them sees as Merlin excuses himself to walk Harry to the door. Eggsy watches them go like a moony-eyed teenager with their first crush.

Over the course of their relationship, Eggsy decided that Merlin has several smiles for different occasions and people—the one he gives to most everyone that’s not quite comfortable and holds a bit of snark but only the trained eye would notice. It’s the first one Eggsy saw while he was still a recruit and intrigued him about this tall, cranky man. There’s the other one reserved for his family, no matter how much they drive Merlin crazy, and another that’s for Alex and him alone. His eldest nephew is the light of his life and while Merlin swears he doesn’t play favorites, Alex most certainly is. The one after that is all encompassing for his loved ones; it’s softer, fonder, and more relaxed than the first.

The last smile is Eggsy’s and can never be replicated for anyone else. It’s the one Merlin makes in fond exasperation and good humor. The corners of his mouth lift ever so; it’s soft and warm that when Merlin does it, Eggsy feels like they’re the people in a room filled with them. It’s the one that says _I really fucking love you_.

It’s the same one Merlin has on his face when he returns to Eggsy’s bedside and sits on the mattress. His hand rubs up and down the length of Eggsy’s blanket-covered calf. “I have sworn to keep you from becoming more homesick,” he says, playfully. “I have a few ideas, but am also opened to suggestions.”

A film is out of the question; Eggsy’s practically seen everything on all of the streaming services this place offers and several bootlegs that Gregory, of all people, managed to smuggle onto his iPad. The book he was keen on finishing is currently on his bedside table in London and he isn’t willing to start another. And snogging Merlin is entirely out of the question; he still becomes winded far too easily and it’s a bloody mood killer. Thankfully he doesn’t need to tell Merlin that since he already knows after Eggsy’s complained about it and his lack of morning wood to high heaven.

“Mind if we cuddle a bit?” Eggsy asks. He skipped his nap to see Harry off and his fatigue has decided to catch up to him. He notices Merlin’s hesitation and unspoken question forming on his tongue; the one where he wonders if the two of them squeezing into the bed will aggravate his injuries. Eggsy cuts those thoughts off at the pass by saying, “On my good side.”

Merlin raises a brow as he purses his lips, pondering.

“Please?” Eggsy says. They’ve held hands and stolen quick kisses—which is a wonderful thing, considering that nearly three weeks ago they weren’t even speaking—but what Eggsy really wants is to be held in Merlin’s arms and hear his beating heart under his ear. To have back those precious things he lost for nearly a year—nearly forever—and remove any traces of another person being there. “I’d really like it if we did,” he adds.

That does the trick in obliterating Merlin’s resolve. He still has that stern look about him when he says, “The second you flinch or wince, _a ghràidh_ , I’m hopping off this bed.”

It might have been more convincing if Merlin wasn’t already toeing off his shoes and helping Eggsy move to the other side of the mattress. He lies on his back, leaving his side open for Eggsy to curl up against, and drapes his arm around Eggsy’s shoulders once he’s made himself comfortable. The hospital equipment hums and beeps around them as their presence grows fewer by the day.

Eggsy twines his fingers with Merlin’s jumper, sighing happily at the familiarity of it against his skin and Merlin’s cologne tickling his nose. He’s missed these quiet moments and says as much.

“Aye. I did, too,” Merlin tells him. He presses his lips into Eggsy’s hair and breathes him in. “I didn’t realize how much.”

“It took you a minute, did it?” Eggsy says. He feels Merlin stiffen under him and it ain’t in a good way. With a frown, he cranes his neck to look at Merlin’s face and finds worry written into his handsome features. “Babe, what is it?”

Merlin clears his throat and shifting uncomfortably. “Nothing,” he says, which is a fucking bold faced lie if there ever was one. Clearly, he’s forgetting who he’s dealing with and Eggsy can read him better than anyone else.

“Does it have to do with the argument you had with Harry that neither of you wants to tell me ‘bout?” Eggsy asks. He sees Merlin’s face break open in surprise and grins, impishly, at him. “Superspy, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Merlin deadpans after a moment; all the humor in his voice falls flat and it makes Eggsy worry. He sits up before helping Eggsy do the same. “You’re right; Harry and I exchanged some words a bit earlier today.”

Eggsy nods since he figured as much. “‘Bout me, I reckon,” he comments and then waits for Merlin to continue. When it doesn’t happen, he nudges him with his elbow. “Are you going to make me pull teeth, babe? I’ll have you know, Gregory’s given me some wicked tips.”

“Remind me to _never_ pair you with Lamorak on any more assignments,” Merlin grumbles. After palming his face and groaning, he relents. “We had a debate on which one of us will be taking care of you once you’re released and your medical evaluation is cleared by Xavier. Harry felt that it would be taking advantage if you were to come home with me because, as he said, you are still vulnerable.”

Merlin goes quiet and retreats inside his own head, waiting for the worst to come. Eggsy has noticed the moments where he tiptoes around him, like Merlin thinks there’s going to be another blowout. “Hey,” Eggsy says, taking a hold of Merlin’s hand. “You and me are good. You know that, right?”

Merlin nods but doesn’t seem terribly convinced.

“I’m not going to explode on you, babe.” He squeezes Merlin’s fingers and smiles, kindly, at him when Merlin looks up. “There’s no other shoe to drop or nothin’, but Harry’s right ‘bout me being vulnerable and shit. I mean, I just got bloody shot!” He reaches for Merlin’s chin and guides him down to press their foreheads together. Merlin is warm and welcoming against his skin. “As much as you make me feel safe, I don’t want us endin’ up in another situation like _before_. Not so soon after we’ve gotten our arses on the same page.”

Merlin swallows, remembering how he and Eggsy fell apart in the first place. The lack of communication, the despair on both their parts, the anger and rage, the blaming, and all of the hurt. Eggsy knows that Merlin also doesn’t want to go back to that dark place. “ _A ghràidh_ , it wouldn’t be an imposition,” he says, roughly.

“I know that, babe.”

“Nor would I make any untoward advances,” Merlin adds like he’s Mr. _bloody_ Fitzwilliam Darcy or George Knightley. Fuckin’ hell, this man is utterly and completely ridiculous!

Eggsy makes a strangled sound. “Well that’s just crap, now isn’t it?” he cries in mock hurt. “No untoward advances!” He grins at the laughter rattling loose from Merlin’s lips. “ _Untoward advances?_ That’s utter shit! What kind of fuckin’ bloke are you, anyway?”

Merlin cups his cheeks, running his thumb over Eggsy’s bottom lip. The sensation of it makes him shiver with pure want. “The kind of bloke who loves you dearly and wants you to be happy and comfortable while you convalesce,” he whispers. Merlin leans in to kiss him; it’s gentle and slow and bloody wonderful. “Though, being the selfish arsehole that I am, I’d like you to be somewhere that I can take care of you.”

“Hamish, you _do_ realize that Harry’s been your best mate since you were nineteen. You even have a key to his house?” Eggsy asks as he makes a face. “Don’t you have a change of clothes somewhere?”

Merlin groans. “And a toothbrush,” he mentions, sounding embarrassed.

“Then why don’t you bring your arse over? Harry could use the help because he’s Arthur and has to be at the shop or the distillery,” Eggsy points out. He nuzzles his cheek into Merlin’s palm. “And can’t you run missions remotely?”

“I suppose I could,” Merlin replies. “If Harry agrees to it.”

He rolls his eyes because, _of course_ , Harry will agree to it. As if that wasn’t an option! “He _will_ ,” Eggsy states. “I’ll even bring it up to him, yeah?” Eggsy smiles as Merlin nods in reply. “Feelin’ better now?”

“Aye,” Merlin sighs. “I am.”

Eggsy kisses the pointed tip of Merlin’s nose. “Good. Now we can go back to cuddlin’ and you’ll tell me about these _untoward advances_.”

 

* * *

 

The other thing no one cares to mention is that recovery can go downhill rather quickly and unexpectedly because it’s that kind of fucking movie.

Eggsy finds this out the hard way after he pushes himself to walk around the medical ward without using someone as a crutch or having to be wheeled back to his room. He’s feeling better and can move without his stomach flaring up in pain which is aces. So it’s only natural, he reckons, that he can start pushing himself a bit further right? Besides, he, Roxy, and Merlin are due to return to London in a few hours’ time.

As he brushes his teeth, Eggsy thinks of how much he’s looking forward to going home where his bed is, where his mum and Daisy are, and where JB will most certainly snore by his head. He misses his own surroundings and while Romania is nice and all, he wants to get the hell out of Dodge, as Trevor says. Just a few more hours and Eggsy will be leaving much happier than he arrived.

The three of them board the jet with the medical team escorting them all the way to HQ. Eggsy finds himself huddled under more blankets than he thought possible and pouts as the flight crew goes through final checks before take-off. Dr. Ionescu ordered this, much to Eggsy’s chagrin, since the doctor insisted that his health was still fragile. While he’d beg to differ, Eggsy decided against it because Ionescu seems like the petty sort. At least he isn’t hooked up to any more IV lines and can move freely about the cabin once they’re airborne.

Shifting in his seat, Eggsy catches Merlin helping Roxy put her luggage in the overhead compartment as they chat. He seems far more relaxed now that they’re returning home; happier, too. He’ll be staying with Eggsy as often as his schedule allows, though Eggsy knows Merlin would prefer him coming back to the flat they used to share while Merlin understands why he isn’t. They still have plenty to work on and rebuild trust between them before Eggsy even entertains the idea of moving in with him again. Besides, staying with Harry will be good for all of them; Eggsy will have all the help he’ll need during the rest of his recovery, and he’ll be closer to his mum and Daisy’s.

God, he’s so excited to see them that he can hardly stand! True, it’ll be in yet another hospital room as a precaution, but he’ll have his girls again. At least it will make the story of Eggsy coming down with a virus more believable since his mum doesn’t realize that her son is a spy and it’s not like Eggsy’s about to tell her. Some things are best kept secret.

Feeling a bit winded and tired from the day’s flurry of activity, Eggsy decides to take a kip as Merlin sits next to him and Roxy across from them. He automatically leans into Merlin’s side, resting his head on his shoulder as he closes his eyes. Eggsy hears Merlin’s soft chuckle, then the brushing of his lips against his hairline before he realizes he’s dozed off. He completely misses hearing Merlin’s comment about Eggsy’s forehead being warmer than usual and Roxy owning it up to having every blanket from inside the Romanian facility piled on top of him.

Waking up, however, is not as easy as falling asleep. Eggsy opens his eyes somewhere over the Channel after having some strange, fevered dreams and feels more exhausted than before. Both Roxy and Merlin are napping while the medical team sits nearby. Shifting in his seat, Eggsy winces at the ache and growing pressure in his chest. _Pushed it too far today,_ he thinks as he pushes the blankets off of him so he can stumble to the lavatory to relieve himself. The moment he rises to his feet, Eggsy’s stomach surges with nausea and he bolts as far as he can go before he vomits onto the carpet.

Pain explodes through his body, beginning with his stomach and spreading towards either end with each spasm. Someone shoves an emphasis bag under his mouth as he wretches some more and slowly moves him away from his own sick. Moving turns out to be a decidedly terrible—no, _horrible_ —idea; the tilting of his axis makes him vomit again, bringing more searing agony and the sensation of his chest being pressed in a vice.

Someone touches his skin which feels like it’s about to melt off the bone, causing Eggsy to recoil and shriek in pain. Holy fuck, how did this become his life? _Again._

“Eggsy,” Merlin calls, removing his hands from Eggsy’s face. Panic fills his voice as it fades along with Eggsy’s vision; he idly realizes that he’s going to pass out and, honestly, he can’t be too narked off about it. Everything hurts and he wants it to end—then it does.

When he opens his eyes several hours later, it’s the worst fucking thing he’s ever experienced. Finding two IV lines in his arm that lead to separate bags hanging over him and an oxygen mask fitted over his nose and mouth, Eggsy realizes how truly and utterly _fucked_ he is.

“Well, Galahad,” Dr. Hanover greets as he reviews Eggsy’s medical chart and says like he’s psychic, “you’re utterly fucked.”

Eggsy groans and squeezes his eyes shut at the sight of Hanover peering down at him. He likes Hanover—he really does—but he’d rather not see another doctor for more than five _fucking_ minutes. He hears Xavier say to someone, “Let them know that he’s awake. I’m sure they’re anxious to see him.”

“It seems you developed a rather unfortunate case of pneumonia,” Hanover tells him.

Unfortunate is the biggest understatement Eggsy’s heard in a while and fuck if he has to hear it from Hanover _of all people_. At least that explains why he feels like complete shit, but _come on_! He was just starting to resemble his old—pre-being shot and comatose—self and now _this_. Eggsy pulls the oxygen mask down to wheeze, “Is there anything but?” Hanover fastens it back to his face before Eggsy can say _you arsehole_. Probably did it on purpose. Wanker.

“Keep that on,” Hanover orders in fond exasperation. “With your lung still recovering, I’m sure you can assume that it’s critical for you to remain on oxygen therapy for a few hours before myself and the respiratory therapist decide it’s safe for you to be switched to the nasal cannula.” He gestures to the IV lines and the bags dripping into them. “And, of course more fluids and antibiotics than you could ever want. You certainly don’t do things by halves, young man.”

Eggsy shoots him a death-glare and pulls the mask down again. “Low blow, bruv!”

“For fuck’s sake, Galahad!” Hanover snaps, uncharacteristically. Xavier is probably one of the most even tempered blokes Eggsy has ever come across and for him to curse, he must deeply concerned. He bats Eggsy’s hands away from the thing as he threatens, “Don’t make me order restraints.”

As Eggsy weakly flicks two fingers at him, Merlin says, “What on earth is he doing now?”

“The usual,” Hanover answers. He doesn’t comment on Merlin taking a seat in the chair next to the hospital bed and rests his hand on Eggsy’s head. “Disobeying medical advice, being a cheeky brat and general pain in my arse.”

Merlin snorts. “I guess he’s going to make a full recovery despite the setback?” He begins running his fingers through Eggsy’s hair, scratching his scalp and soothing away any discomfort.

“I am almost certain of it.”

This attack on his person, _while he’s in the bloody room_ , is unfair and rude in Eggsy’s opinion. He hates being unable to respond, but Eggsy isn’t putting it past Hanover to follow through on his threats of restraints, nor Harry to sign off on it. Like getting shot, Eggsy hadn’t meant to catch pneumonia and he was actually _trying_ to follow the doctor’s orders.

“The Romanian team should have waited another few days to a week before allowing him to fly back,” Hanover grumbles as he starts tapping on his tablet again. “With the injuries he sustained, it’s no surprise that Galahad’s immune system has been compromised.” He glances at Eggsy and sighs. “You didn’t do anything wrong, young man. These things happen to the best of us.”

Hearing Hanover say that doesn’t make Eggsy feel any better. Merlin must sense it and offers him a sympathetic smile. “Roxy’s coming up with Harry and your mother,” he says, sounding nervous. Granted, he probably _should be_ since it will be the first time that Merlin and Eggsy’s mum have been in the same room in nearly a year.

Despite her always liking him, Eggsy can’t imagine his mum being particularly pleased with Merlin after their break-up. They’re messy businesses during the best of times and theirs was a downright disaster. While Michelle hadn’t seen the worst of Eggsy’s behavior, she knew her son was hurting and like any mum, she probably wants to have a few words with the man who broke her baby’s heart. Just thinking about Merlin withering under her stare brings a tired smile to his face as he closes his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” Merlin intones. His hand hasn’t left Eggsy’s person; it curls around him like a warm embrace and banishes any guilt away.

Eggsy grunts in reply. He ain’t missing seeing his mum for anything, even if it’s just for a moment because, fuck, he’s missed her. Knowing that he came so close to death and being lost to her and Daisy for good brings a whole new appreciation, not that Eggsy didn’t appreciate his girls. Everything he does is for them and he thinks that it’s one of the reasons he fought his way through the darkness—the other being Merlin.

His mum’s voice reaches his ears as she speaks with Roxy, most likely, just beyond his room. When Eggsy reintroduced her to Harry, who she will always think of the man who got her husband killed, it hadn’t gone over very well. There hadn’t been any screaming or shouting, but it was resolutely uncomfortable as Michelle glared at Harry in stony silence. She’s probably already given Harry a bollocking on finding out that Eggsy was in the hospital. His mum would never do it in front of him, but Eggsy has no doubts that Harry has been raged at about dragging her son into the same thing that took Lee away from them and promising that if she ever receives another phone call about Eggsy being treated for so much as a stubbed toe, she would rip his cock off and force-fed it to him.

Unless if she’s already done it. Eggsy wouldn’t put it past her.

Eggsy blinks and there she is, standing in the doorway with her coat draped over an arm. She looks positively radiant. Her mouth forms a perfect O as she takes him in and gasps, “Oh babe.” Michelle rushes across the room while Roxy and Harry hang back, the latter appearing to be in one piece. “Sweetheart,” she whispers as she cups his cheeks and leans to kiss his forehead.

Relief comes as Michelle gently wraps Eggsy up in her embrace, holding him close and rocks him. The room dwindles down to just them. “My little egg,” she whispers. Again, she presses her lips to Eggsy’s forehead and again for good measure, then some more. She peppers his fevered skin with kisses like she’s done when Daisy’s scraped her knee or has fallen ill. While he doesn’t shriek with laughter, Eggsy still revels in it. “It’s alright, love. Mum’s here,” she tells him.

When she’s done, she rests her cheek on the top of his head. Eggsy feels his mum’s body shift as she notices Merlin standing across the bed from her. “Hamish,” she greets, neutrally. The tone of her voice is far warmer than all of the times she’s spoken to Harry, though still a bit icy.

“Ms. Unwin,” Merlin replies.

“Michelle, please. I’ll think you’re asking for Lee’s mum.”

Judging by the way Merlin smiles nervously at her, Eggsy realizes she must be doing the same. He’s sure that she’ll have questions later, but for now, this is a good sign.

Eggsy listens to his mum being introduced to Dr. Hanover, then filled in on her son’s condition and what to expect. As Merlin had done, Michelle strokes his hair while conversing with Hanover. Her perfume wafts around him, cutting through the antiseptic and the plastic of the oxygen mask and surrounds him with the warmth of being home. Eggsy leans into her and closes his eyes, letting himself doze without fully dropping off. It’s the nicest feeling he’s had in a while.

“Babe,” his mum calls, guiding him back from the twilight of sleep. She grins down at him when Eggsy blinks and focuses on her face. She pushes a stray lock of hair from his skin. “You rest now,” she beckons with a tender smile. Eggsy notices how her eyes shine with happy tears, clear and blue and utterly brilliant. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

* * *

 

Curled up on his side, Eggsy watches his mum trace over the lines on his outstretched hand as she explains that Daisy is with Susan, her best friend from preschool.

“Ted came right over,” Michelle says. “Barely got the words out of my mouth and there he was to help me pack an overnight bag.” She glances at him, looking shy and modest. “Even drove me here.”

As much as he misses his baby sister, Eggsy knows that the hospital and all of the machines, tubes, and activity would frighten and confuse Daisy. She’s still too young to comprehend the gravity of the situation and he ain’t about to try to explain it to a three-almost-four-year-old.

Eggsy raises a brow. “And you ain’t datin’ him because why?”

“And you ain’t telling me about Hamish because why?” she parrots, eyes twinkling with mischief. His mum tilts her head. “It’s not every day your ex-boyfriend shows up in your hospital room.”

“It’s not every day I’m _in_ a hospital room, mind,” Eggsy mumbles. He twitches his nose, trying to make his nostrils more comfortable because of the nasal cannula shoved inside them. “This is embarrassing, is what it is!”

Michelle makes a sympathetic sound. “These things happen, love. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna lay off Harry, then?” he asks, daringly. Eggsy blames the medication they have him on.

Her mouth lies in a thin line, clearly not pleased by him defending Harry. “I’ve been cordial with him.”

“As cordial as an ax murderer,” Eggsy retorts before he begins to cough, dryly. After he’s done and has drunk a bit of water, he lets out a disgruntled noise. “Hate feelin’ like this,” he says, quietly, like he’s trying to keep a secret. It ain’t one, really.

His mum nods in understanding. “I know, babe,” she tells him. “Just a few more days before you go—” She pauses and Eggsy raises his brows, waiting for what she’s going to say next. “Back to Harry’s.”

“Home, mum,” Eggsy sighs. “I live there. Even have all of my shit in this thing called a bedroom.”

“I liked it better when you lived with Hamish,” she says off-handedly.

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “That’s because you _actually_ like him.”

“I _don’t_ like what he did to you,” his mum counters. She holds up her hand when Eggsy opens his mouth to protest. “I understand he was going through a lot, but Hamish could have handled it better.” She brushes his cheek with her thumb, smiling. “All I want is for you to be happy, babe, _but_ keep in mind I have a few reservations about you jumping back into a relationship with him.”

It’s his turn to nod. “I know,” Eggsy says. “We’re taking it slow.”

“Oh? And why was he here before I even arrived last night?”

“Because he came on the business trip with me,” Eggsy lies. “You know how these clients can get. Askin’ for everything under the stars in a moment’s notice. Harry—” He gives her an imploring look before continuing, so she’ll keep her comments to herself. “—thought two sets of hands would be better than one.”

Michelle purses her lips together. “He did, did he?”

“ _Mum_ ,” Eggsy whines.

“I was just saying…” She blinks when he scoffs at her. “Harry means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

Eggsy nods because she’s right. “He does,” he tell her. “He wanted to help when no one did. Never asked for anything in return, either. Harry ain’t perfect, but who is?” He doesn’t dare throw Dean in her face or any of the mistakes she made before Harry came into their lives, plucking Eggsy from a dark, obscure path and guiding him towards one that would allow him to provide for his family. To see the good in himself as well as others and to be the man his dad wanted Eggsy to be.

So yeah. Harry means a fucking lot to him.

“Okay,” she says after a while of uncomfortable silences and puzzled stares. “I’ll keep my comments to myself.”

He feels like he can breathe again. “Thank you.”

“And to my friends.”

“ _Mum!_ ” he hisses in exasperation before realizing he’s been had when she starts laughing at him. Eggsy stares at her for a moment, wondering where he went wrong with his life and if it’s possible to put himself up for adoption or an assignment in the Arctic. Then he pouts, bottom lip jutted out as far as he can manage.

Eggsy might be an adult, but he definitely ain’t above acting like a child.

 

* * *

 

Coming home is, well…like coming home; that insurmountable feeling of happiness, relief, comfort, and welcoming.

But it’s better than that in a way Eggsy can’t even begin to describe.

It’s the sound of Pickle and JB charging through the house, their nails clicking on the hardwood floors as they howl in greeting. It’s the familiar smells of books and tea and polished furniture. The familiarity of his bedroom with everything in its place and his favorite joggers laid out across the comforter. Harry speaking to the dogs as he leashes them up for their walk and the noises the old mews house makes. It’s all these little pieces that lend themselves to the bigger picture of what _home_ is.

Fuck, he missed this place.

Eggsy sleeps like the—forgive the pun—dead on the first night he’s back. One moment, he’s watching the telly as he gives JB scratches behind his ear and the next, the grey morning light filters into his room. It’s probably normal after being in the hospital for so long; no one is waking him up to check his dressings or poke around his body as they take his vitals. The constant hum and hissing of medical equipment becomes wonderful, blissful silence.

He’s come to appreciate the quiet after years of being under Dean’s roof with his shithole friends and their carrying on at all hours. It improved some when Daisy was born, but not by much. Living in a place where he’s woken up by JB’s wet nose in his face—or worse, when he licks him on the mouth—or the glorious smell of coffee is a wondrous thing.

Eggsy still yearns for the mornings with Merlin’s arm slung around his waist while his breath tickles the small hairs on the back of his neck and the sound of his sleep-filled voice when he greets him with a kiss. It’s not Merlin’s fault that he’s stuck at HQ in order to help Trevor and Bors—really Chadwick, never Chad unless if Eggsy wants to lose his bollocks—disassemble an unstable vibranium powered hand cannon in Myanmar. As most things are, it was an unexpected development and needed to be handled quickly.

He wakes up to a text from Merlin, timestamped at around five in the morning, and JB curled up in the crevice of his armpit. As he pets JB’s haunches, he reads that Merlin was just stumbling into his flat when he sent the thing and missed him terribly. Seeing it on his mobile screen, Eggsy thinks of when they first started really dating—not the slow build of their feelings for one another while they fucked all over HQ—but after their first date to dinner and the cinema or the tenth when they drove out to the Lake District for the day. The messages they would send when they weren’t in each other’s company; the sweet _I love_ yous and _thinking of_ yous that brought a smile to Eggsy’s face. The pornographic descriptions of what they’d do to each other later on and how they fulfilled them and then some.

Thinking about it makes Eggsy’s cock twitch. He reminds himself that they’re taking it slow, but it doesn’t stop him from telling Merlin to come by if he’s not too knackered and he misses him, too. Because he does. It’s not the type of missing someone he experienced when they broke up, which was a constant ache in his chest and, sometimes, stabbing pain if a good memory bubbled to the surface. This is sweeter, giddier. Like Eggsy is falling in love all over again despite having never stopped loving Merlin in the first place.

He sets his mobile down on the bedside table as JB chuffs in his sleep and stretches, pushing his front paws against Eggsy’s side before he turns back into a fawn colored loaf. After visiting the bathroom and refilling his glass of water in the kitchen, Eggsy rejoins JB for a bit of nap until Pickle’s excited yip and Harry trying to deter him from rushing into Eggsy’s room wakes them. The tiny puppy begins hopping on his hind legs, trying to peek over the mattress and bark at the same time. JB lumbers over and makes an aborted woof.

“Pickle,” Harry says, exasperated, as he comes in, still wearing his dressing robe over his pajamas, and picks his dog off the floor. “We are all very excited that Eggsy’s home, but must you wake up the entire house?” The puppy ignores him and wags his tail at Eggsy, squirming to get out of Harry’s arms and onto the bed. Harry relents, groaning, “ _Fine_.”

Soon Pickle licks his face with all of the gusto he can muster, his tiny body wriggling madly while Eggsy just laughs. It hurts less than it used to, though he still feels tight through his chest and stomach. He reckons it’s the lingering effects of being shot and all the associated shit, which, yeah, makes sense. Eggsy will take this over being under Ionescu’s care any day.

Harry disappears to start on breakfast for the two of them and their animal companions while Eggsy keeps the dogs occupied. He’s breaking up a growling match when his mobile beeps at him. Holding Pickle against his shoulder, Eggsy reaches for it to find another text from Merlin. Honestly, Eggsy’s surprised he’s even awake because it’s a little bit past ten and he _knows_ how long it takes for Merlin to fall asleep when he’s been keyed up. Instead of messaging him back, Eggsy scrolls through his favorites and presses down on Merlin’s name. He never got around to removing his number, not that it would have done any good; Eggsy has it memorized.

“Eggsy,” Merlin greets. He sounds tired—happy but tired—and Eggsy hears it in his voice. “Good morning.”

“Same to you,” he says. “What are you doing up? I thought you’d be sleepin’ ‘til noon after last night. Or this morning, rather.”

Merlin yawns. “Internal clock won’t allow it, I’m afraid.”

“Sucks, babe.” Eggsy pictures Merlin sitting in his bed, leaned up against the headboard or maybe lying down as he talks to him. All that room and no one to share it with…Eggsy wishes he could be there. Pickle nips at his jaw and squirms wildly while whining at JB, who ignores him. “Stop it you!” Eggsy groans. Pickle tries for the nip of his nose, much to his chagrin. “ _Pickle!_ No!”

Merlin’s chuckle comes through the speaker. “Having some trouble there?”

“Just Pickle being a pain in my arse,” he sighs as he sets the puppy down on the bed. “He and JB nearly came to blows before I phoned you.”

“He seems like the haughty sort,” Merlin comments. “Much like his father.”

Eggsy snorts in amusement. “I won’t tell Harry you said that. He might have your bollocks if I do. How did last night go?”

“Got everything sorted out and destroyed the device without further incident. I believe they’re returning from Myanmar today, unless if Tequila has caused an international incident we are still unaware of.”

Sadly, if Trevor did get into some trouble despite being on assignment with Bors, it wouldn’t surprise anyone within the Kingsman and Statesman organizations. He certainly had a knack for it, which Eggsy knew all too well. Trevor’s still a top bloke, though.

“And what about you? Planning on leavin’ the flat?”

A knock comes from the frame of his bedroom door. Eggsy cranes his head, ready to tell Harry that he’ll join him in a minute when he sees Merlin standing there with his mobile pressed to his ear. Without his glasses, Eggsy notices bruises under Merlin’s puffy, sleep-deprived eyes. It’s quite possible that he’s rolled out of bed and thrown on whatever clean clothes he found before coming over here; he hasn’t even shaved. “Aye, I might,” Merlin says as he hangs up.

“Yeah?” Eggsy blinks at him, still in shock that Merlin’s here when he really ought to be at home, resting. “What might convince you?”

Merlin shrugs as he steps into the room, earning JB’s attention while Pickle continues playing with JB’s toy. The pug goes to the edge of the bed and chuffs in greeting. Merlin placates him by scratching JB’s happy spot behind his ear. “I heard Harry has a good spread when he wants to,” Merlin teases.

“Oh fuck off,” Eggsy grouses. He moves his legs to make room for Merlin to sit down. “Here I thought you were being a soddin’ romantic by surprisin’ me!”

Pickle clambers over to him, nudging JB out of the way to have Merlin’s complete, undivided attention. JB snorts and goes to Eggsy where he climbs onto his lap and lies down. “I brought over _My Fair Lady_ for us to watch if you’re feeling up to it,” Merlin mentions. He gives him a small smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“You know the way to my heart,” Eggsy says as his cheeks turn pink. “Give us a kiss?”

Another smile and Merlin obliges, his stubble leaving a pleasant scratch behind. He lingers a bit, allowing their lips to brush up against each other without neither of them doing anything. Merlin watches him as he reaches to brush Eggsy’s hair off his still-warm forehead. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Something like it, yeah.” Eggsy moves closer, resting his head on Merlin’s shoulder and breathes in the scent of his cologne and the Scottish Breakfast tea he drank before coming over. With a grateful sigh, he whispers, “Missed you.”

Merlin’s arm curls around him, protective and loving. “I missed you more,” he whispers back.

 

* * *

 

A few days into being home and just an hour before his mum and Daisy are due to arrive, Harry ducks into his study for a quick call shortly after breakfast.

Harry’s been nervy all morning since it’s going to be the first time Michelle Unwin will step foot inside the house rather than dropping Daisy off out front. No lie, Eggsy thinks it’s pretty hilarious to see the great Harry Hart afraid of his mum. Knowing him, the call probably has to do with making sure everything’s perfect before their guests arrive and Harry doesn’t want Eggsy overhearing it. When he comes back out looking rather relieved, Henry Higgins realizes he’s grown accustomed to Eliza’s face because Eggsy has watched _My Fair Lady_ for the hundredth time since Merlin brought it over. Harry squeezes his shoulder as he walks by on his way to one of the armchairs and takes a seat. “I just spoke with Champagne,” Harry says. “He sends his well wishes and hopes for your speedy recovery.”

Shit, Eggsy thinks as he pauses the film. A phone call with Champagne ain’t necessarily a good thing, considering what’s happened. “Everything alright?” he asks.

“We were discussing your probation.” Harry has never been one to mince words or make up white lies to keep the peace. He sighs before continuing. “Once you’ve cleared for active duty, you won’t be allowed to run solo missions for six months. While I’m not sure who you’ll be paired with, Champagne was quick to add the caveat they won’t be with Tequila.” The corners of Harry’s lips curl into the faintest smile.

All in all, they’re letting him off easy. “That’s not too terrible, innit,” Eggsy says. “It’s not like I don’t deserve it; I proper fucked up this time.”

“And you’re required to have weekly sessions with Dr. Davies-Taylor,” Harry adds, invoking the name of Kingsman’s newly appointed therapist.

Eggsy can’t suppress a groan as he drops his head against the back of the sofa. With all the shit he’s pulled in the past year in addition to the mess in Romania, he shouldn’t be all that surprised. Really, this has been a very long time coming. “Fuck me,” he grumbles.

“Speaking with someone isn’t the worst thing,” Harry tells him, genteelly. “The nature of our jobs are high stress and sometimes we need an objective opinion.” He makes a non-committal sound, but it doesn’t deter Harry in the least. “ _And_ ,” Harry adds, “it might help you understand your emotions as you rebuild your relationship with Merlin.”

He shoots him a glare. “You know,” Eggsy hisses, “for a bloke who’s never had kids, you’ve got the dad thing down pat.”

Harry grins at him as the doorbell rings and rises from his seat. “Well, my dear boy, I’ve had practice with you,” he says in a fond tone that makes Eggsy’s bad mood vanish. He really loves the crazy old bastard.

Eggsy follows behind him, catching a glimpse of his mum and Daisy coming up the pathway, hand in hand. Under her coat, Daisy’s wearing the dress he got her a few months ago—the one with the pink tulle skirt and grey top—looking as happy and gorgeous as he remembers her. When Harry opens the front door to greet them, Daisy’s laughter fills the house while Harry makes awkward small talk with his mum.

Eggsy comes around the corner, finding Harry placing his girls’ coats in the entryway closet as Daisy asks all sweet and innocently, “Are you a pirate?”

His mum’s cheeks turn bright pink as she goes to tell Daisy that it’s not polite to ask such questions or whatever it is parents are supposed to do. With a big smile, Harry squats down in front of Daisy and leans in as if to tell her a secret. Honestly, it’s hard to be mad or even insulted by a toddler with big blue eyes and blonde ringlets. “I’m the _king_ of pirates, Miss Daisy,” he says. “Didn’t your brother tell you?”

“No!” Daisy replies, offended that she only just learned such vital information.

“I was sworn to secrecy, Daise,” Eggsy says, earning his sister’s attention. Her eyes widen at the sight of him before she lets out a happy shriek. “Pirate’s code and all.” She runs into his embrace and throwing herself into his arms. Despite growing like a weed, Daisy still feels feather-light as he picks her up and holds her close, alternating between kissing her cheeks and giving her raspberries.

Their mum comes over, pecking Eggsy on the cheek and pushing his hair off his forehead to feel for a temperature. “You’re looking better, babe,” she says, sounding both happy and surprised. He supposes she thought Harry wasn’t capable of being a caretaker. “Even got a bit of color back in your face.”

Daisy steals his attention away; it’s what she’s always done for the moment her tiny, pink body wrapped in a blanket was lifted out of his mum’s arms and into his own. There isn’t anything Eggsy wouldn’t do for his baby sister, even if it means watching _Frozen_ ad nauseam, playing princesses while donning a tiara, and quieting her cries when she’s hurt, sick, or upset. She’s worth every sleepless night and early morning, every temper tantrum, and every time she projectiles body fluid onto him.

As he carries her into the sitting room, Daisy tells Eggsy about her best friend, Susan, who he’s met a few times. She’s a spirited and friendly young lady with dark curly hair and glasses. Usually, she and his sister are far too busy playing to pay much attention to him; they’re joined at the hip, those two. And apparently, Susan has a cat that’s nearly as big as JB. “Do you think mummy will let me have a kitty?” she asks.

Eggsy glances over her shoulder to see his mum shaking her head. “They are a lot of responsibility, love,” he says. “You’ve got to feed them, make sure they have plenty to drink and toys to play with, and that their litter box is kept clean. Same goes for their water and food bowls.”

“Can we play with my dolls?” Daisy asks, changing the subject as children do.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eggsy notices Harry ducking away to let the dogs out of the study while Eggsy gets his girls settled in the sitting room. Sitting on the floor with Daisy in his lap and his back against the sofa, Eggsy listens to his sister as she introduces him to the dolls she’s packed for the day’s sojourn. Their mum makes herself comfortable in one of the armchairs. Every so often her eyes wander from her children to their surroundings, taking in the home of Harry Hart.

“BB,” Daisy calls, her nickname for him because, as it turns out, pronouncing _Eggsy_ was too difficult for her when she was younger. Now it’s stuck and he doesn’t mind.

“Yes, petal,” Eggsy says. He notices her clutching the doll—a stuffed toy, really—he and Merlin got her as a birthday present when they were first a couple. It’s a well-loved bear with its fuzz rubbed off on its black nose and a new sweater since the other one ripped. “I recognize this fellow! Roger, correct?”

Daisy nods, happily. “He wanted to see JB,” she says as the dogs come in, trailing behind Harry, with the tags on their collars chiming. She turns, letting loose a happy sound and clapping her hands.

The three adults end up watching Daisy play with JB and Pickle, all of them smiling lazily at the little girl. It’s nice that Eggsy doesn’t have to force conversation between his mum and Harry since Daisy is a good enough distraction for all of them. As children usually are, Daisy boldly goes over to Harry and asks him what he thinks of her dress, which he says is lovely but not as much as her. She laughs, delightedly, and even his mum’s grin widens.

Eggsy sneaks off to take his medication before lunch or at least tries to. Ever his shadow, Daisy follows him and asks a million questions once he’s lifted her up onto the counter. It pulls at his wounds, sending short spikes of pain through them, but Eggsy doesn’t care. She’s his baby sister.

“Will I catch it?” Daisy asks as she watches him alternate between swallowing pills and water.

He shakes his head. “Nah, petal. You’re safe from me.”

“Susan caught Michael’s cold once,” Daisy tells him. He has no idea who Michael is, but judging by Daisy’s look of annoyance, he is decidedly not a mate. Eggsy has to bite the inside of his lip to keep himself from chuckling because she’s definitely inherited his fiercely loyal tendencies. “He’s not good about washing his hands. BB, I bet he doesn’t listen to his mummy!”

Eggsy smiles. “Not all kids are as good as you, Daise,” he says as he helps her off the counter and sets her down on the floor. “Ready for some lunch?” Eggsy asks, holding out his hand for her to take. She gives him a high-five with a shriek of laughter before darting off towards the dining room; Eggsy’s absolutely certain Jamal, Ryan, or even Brandon taught her that one.

“Come BB!” Daisy demands from somewhere down the hall. One of the dogs woofs in agreement, so Eggsy goes.

Sometime between lunch and the sound of a click waking him, Eggsy falls asleep on the sofa with Daisy in his arms. The book he was reading her now resides on the coffee table, where Harry or his mum moved it. He blinks, trying to stretch as much as he can with Daisy pressed up against him and notices Merlin’s silhouette in front of him. “Hey,” he says quietly.

“I didn’t make to wake you,” Merlin apologizes as he pockets his mobile. He was probably snapping a picture of them, the sneaky bastard.

Eggsy waves him off. “Should probably stop nappin’ anyways.” He moves his legs so Merlin can sit. “Did you just get here?”

“A little while ago.” Merlin rests Eggsy’s feet on his lap. “Harry needed the extra emotional support and cushion.”

“Fuckin’ funny that he’s terrified of mum,” Eggsy snorts. “Can’t say I blame him.”

Merlin makes a non-committal sound as he shrugs. He rubs his knuckles over Eggsy’s sock-covered feet. “Did she tire you out?” he asks, nodding at Daisy.

“More than usual.” Eggsy glances down at his sister’s sleeping face and grins. “Harry tell you about my probation?” Merlin nods again. “Better than I expected. Thought they were going to chuck me on my arse.”

“And why would they do that? You’re one of the best we have,” Merlin says, quietly. After a pause, he clears his throat. “I’m also on a probation of sorts.”

Eggsy nearly sits up before remembering Daisy lying in his arms. “Ah fuck! Why? That’s bullshit…”

“The combinations of both our actions resulted in your being injured on the job,” Merlin reminds him. Which Eggsy has heard about through other people, including Merlin himself. Other memories from that night haven’t come back as Eggsy’s health improved, which he guesses it for the best. Still shit, though. “I’m not allowed to oversee or handle any of your missions during your probation.”

He breathes out through his nostrils, keeping his mouth in a firm line so he doesn’t end up shouting the entire house down. Eggsy notices the pleading expression on Merlin’s face and shakes his head. “I guess that’s us, then. Fucked.”

The corners of Merlin’s mouth twitch as he tries to suppress a grin. “I suppose it could be worse,” Merlin agrees.

“Yeah, I guess,” Eggsy mumbles. “Uther could be still alive and going through his pyromania phase. Could you take her? I need to stand up.”

After passing her off to Merlin, Eggsy hobbles around the room until the feeling’s returned to his legs. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watches Merlin with Daisy while his heart swells at the sight of it. Seeing him cradling Daisy to him has been something Eggsy’s missed during the time they were apart. Merlin’s always been a natural with children, starting with Lorna and many years later, his own nieces and nephews who scramble for his attention whenever Merlin’s nearby. Eggsy reckons Merlin would make an amazing father if that’s what he wanted. He goes to him, wrapping his arm around his waist and rests his head against Merlin’s bicep.

“I love you,” he whispers because he does. He loves Merlin more than anything and will continue to love him until time stands still. Even after.

Merlin presses his lips to Eggsy’s forehead. “I love you, too,” he says back.

Hearing the words said by him makes something inside of Eggsy’s chest rattle loose and expand. It’s the worry he’s kept tucked away; if Merlin were to change his mind, if they couldn’t fix things, if something else came and took one of them away. Eggsy tightens his hold and smiles at Merlin, finding it returned in the other man’s face. They’ll be alright, he realizes. Even if it takes some time, they’ll be alright.

And, together, they sway until Harry and Michelle find them a little while later.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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